“You could give me the day off?” Matt suddenly asked.
“Matthew, you know that isn't possible.”
Matt ran his hands over his face, and asked, “So how many many times am I going to get fucked today?”
“You have one appointment today,” Wesley replied.
“Great,” Matt replied bitterly.
The intercom crackled into life, and Harry announced, “Breakfast's here.”
“Send it in,” Wesley replied loudly.
Harry wheeled the trolley through the door and set the plates out on the table, placing plastic cutlery either side of it, then wheeled the trolley back out.
“Is it my birthday?” Matt asked as he sniffed the waffles.
“Waffles and syrup, pomegranate juice, plain yoghurt & pumpkin seeds,” Wesley replied, crossing his legs. Matt was fed a strictly controlled diet, mostly consisting of vegetables and fruit, to ensure he received all the vitamins and minerals he needed, but Wesley had asked the chef to prepare something special that morning.
Matt picked up his knife and fork and started to dig into the waffles, savouring then flavour, and then he paused. “You wouldn't bring me food like this unless something was going on.”
Wesley closed his eyes for a moment, smoothing a finger tip over one eyebrow, as he sighed. There was no way to sugar coat this. “Vanessa wants another baby.”
“No!” Matt shouted, as he slammed the knife and fork down onto the flimsy table. “You know what they did to me last time!”
“I know what they did, Matthew, but I'm afraid we don't have any choice.”
“We?” Matt shouted, as he jumped out of his chair, sending it skittering backwards across the floor.
Wesley was out of his chair in seconds, with one hand outstretched. Keeping his voice low and calm, he said, “Matthew, you need to calm down. You know what happens when you get angry.”
Matt stalked furiously round the room, his hands locked in his hair, and then he circled back round, and with a roar he grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it across the cell.
Wesley backed against the wall, and said, “Harry, calming measures please.”
“No. NO!” Matt wailed, and then the room was filled with sound as a loud alarm blared and multiple jets of pressurised white gas erupted into the room from the ceiling.
When the overhead fans cleared the smoke, Matt was writhing on the floor, his eyes wide, and his hands clamped to the sides of his head.
Wesley moved over to him, and said, “I'm going to touch you now, Matthew.” He placed his hands on Matt's shoulders and dragged him upright so he was leaning against the edge of the bed. “I'm sorry, but they are coming today and there's nothing I can do about it.”
“I can't. I-I can't,” Matt stuttered. “Please. Don't let them do that to me again.”
“If you'd just co-operate and don't fight him, maybe it won't be like last time.”
Matt let out a soft, mirthless laugh, and said, “That's what I did last time and you saw how that ended.” He placed a hand on Wesley's arm, and begged, “Please, you have to stop them.”
Wesley swallowed. When he had gone to Fisk and stated that he saw a new trade opportunity opening up, he had never imagined it would end like this. Of all the brutal beatings and executions he had seen Fisk dish out over the years, this was the slowest and most agonising death Wesley had ever witnessed.
“I really wish I could,” Wesley said softly.
“Report,” Wesley stated calmly.
Matt was sat on the edge of his bed, one arm wrapped defensively around his chest and the other between his legs. His eyes were open, mottled bruising bright on one cheekbone, staring blankly ahead of him, but he gave no indication that he had even heard the question.
“Matthew,” Wesley says sternly, and his head jerked up. “ Where are you injured?”
“I'm fine,” he stated blankly.
“Broken bones?”
“Two ribs.”
“Are you bleeding inside?”
Matt cocked his head to one side, then replied, “Yes.”
“On your side.”
Matt obediently laid down, drawing his knees up to his chest. He knew the drill by now.
Wesley looked away when the doctor snapped on latex gloves, he tried not to listen to the sound of the cap popping off the bottle of lube, nor Matt's pained intake of breath a few seconds later.
“Is it bad?” he asked.
“Minor tearing,” the doctor replied, as he snapped off his gloves and deposited them in the bin. “No need for stitches. I'll prescribe some salve and some pain meds, and have one of the nurses come down and tape his ribs, but other than that, he's good to go.”
When the doctor left the room, Wesley scrubbed his hands through his hair and sighed. “Did you fight him?” he asked.
“No,” Matt replied wearily, still curled in a ball on his side. “He said he'd see me tomorrow though.”
Wesley thought for a moment. “Maybe I can pursued Wilson to stay out of it. Just let Vanessa into the appointment room.”
“It wouldn't make a difference,” Matt sighed. “She's just as bad as him.”
“I don't know what I can do,” Wesley said quietly.
“With any luck he'll beat me to death tomorrow,” Matt said bitterly, turning over onto his other side, so his back was towards Wesley, indicating that this conversation was well and truly over.
“What's going on?” Wesley asked, as he burst into the room, wearing sweat pants and a rumpled T shirt. When he got the call he'd been sleeping in his suite upstairs, and had judged the situation serious enough that he didn't have time to change.
“Nightmare,” Matt's night time watcher, David, replied, “And it's a bad one. He hasn't responded at all.”
Wesley pressed the button on the control panel, and dragged the microphone to his mouth. “Matthew, I need you wake up now.”
Wesley shouted twice more, then Matt seemed to still for a second, than sat bolt upright, screaming.
“Open the door,” Wesley shouted.
“I'm not going in there!” David barked. “Last time he was like this he broke my arm.”
“Just open the god damn door,” Wesley shouted.
The door slid open and Wesley strode into the room, stopping a foot away from Matt. He shouted, “Matthew, you're having a nightmare. You need to wake up now.”
The screaming suddenly stopped, and Matt blinked a few times, his eyes roving sightlessly around the room.
“Are you awake?” Wesley asked, and suddenly Matt was off the bed, dragging himself to the corner of the room like a wounded animal, where he curled up, shaking so hard that it looked like he might fall apart at any second.
Wesley knelt by Matt, making sure that he would be close enough so that matt could feel his familiar presence with whatever senses he had left, but not close enough to touch him.
re: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Part 2
“I'm fine,” Matt snapped back.
“Do you need anything?” Wesley asked.
“You could give me the day off?” Matt suddenly asked.
“Matthew, you know that isn't possible.”
Matt ran his hands over his face, and asked, “So how many many times am I going to get fucked today?”
“You have one appointment today,” Wesley replied.
“Great,” Matt replied bitterly.
The intercom crackled into life, and Harry announced, “Breakfast's here.”
“Send it in,” Wesley replied loudly.
Harry wheeled the trolley through the door and set the plates out on the table, placing plastic cutlery either side of it, then wheeled the trolley back out.
“Is it my birthday?” Matt asked as he sniffed the waffles.
“Waffles and syrup, pomegranate juice, plain yoghurt & pumpkin seeds,” Wesley replied, crossing his legs. Matt was fed a strictly controlled diet, mostly consisting of vegetables and fruit, to ensure he received all the vitamins and minerals he needed, but Wesley had asked the chef to prepare something special that morning.
Matt picked up his knife and fork and started to dig into the waffles, savouring then flavour, and then he paused. “You wouldn't bring me food like this unless something was going on.”
Wesley closed his eyes for a moment, smoothing a finger tip over one eyebrow, as he sighed. There was no way to sugar coat this. “Vanessa wants another baby.”
“No!” Matt shouted, as he slammed the knife and fork down onto the flimsy table. “You know what they did to me last time!”
“I know what they did, Matthew, but I'm afraid we don't have any choice.”
“We?” Matt shouted, as he jumped out of his chair, sending it skittering backwards across the floor.
Wesley was out of his chair in seconds, with one hand outstretched. Keeping his voice low and calm, he said, “Matthew, you need to calm down. You know what happens when you get angry.”
Matt stalked furiously round the room, his hands locked in his hair, and then he circled back round, and with a roar he grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it across the cell.
Wesley backed against the wall, and said, “Harry, calming measures please.”
“No. NO!” Matt wailed, and then the room was filled with sound as a loud alarm blared and multiple jets of pressurised white gas erupted into the room from the ceiling.
When the overhead fans cleared the smoke, Matt was writhing on the floor, his eyes wide, and his hands clamped to the sides of his head.
Wesley moved over to him, and said, “I'm going to touch you now, Matthew.” He placed his hands on Matt's shoulders and dragged him upright so he was leaning against the edge of the bed. “I'm sorry, but they are coming today and there's nothing I can do about it.”
“I can't. I-I can't,” Matt stuttered. “Please. Don't let them do that to me again.”
“If you'd just co-operate and don't fight him, maybe it won't be like last time.”
Matt let out a soft, mirthless laugh, and said, “That's what I did last time and you saw how that ended.” He placed a hand on Wesley's arm, and begged, “Please, you have to stop them.”
Wesley swallowed. When he had gone to Fisk and stated that he saw a new trade opportunity opening up, he had never imagined it would end like this. Of all the brutal beatings and executions he had seen Fisk dish out over the years, this was the slowest and most agonising death Wesley had ever witnessed.
“I really wish I could,” Wesley said softly.
“Report,” Wesley stated calmly.
Matt was sat on the edge of his bed, one arm wrapped defensively around his chest and the other between his legs. His eyes were open, mottled bruising bright on one cheekbone, staring blankly ahead of him, but he gave no indication that he had even heard the question.
“Matthew,” Wesley says sternly, and his head jerked up. “ Where are you injured?”
“I'm fine,” he stated blankly.
“Broken bones?”
“Two ribs.”
“Are you bleeding inside?”
Matt cocked his head to one side, then replied, “Yes.”
“On your side.”
Matt obediently laid down, drawing his knees up to his chest. He knew the drill by now.
Wesley looked away when the doctor snapped on latex gloves, he tried not to listen to the sound of the cap popping off the bottle of lube, nor Matt's pained intake of breath a few seconds later.
“Is it bad?” he asked.
“Minor tearing,” the doctor replied, as he snapped off his gloves and deposited them in the bin. “No need for stitches. I'll prescribe some salve and some pain meds, and have one of the nurses come down and tape his ribs, but other than that, he's good to go.”
When the doctor left the room, Wesley scrubbed his hands through his hair and sighed. “Did you fight him?” he asked.
“No,” Matt replied wearily, still curled in a ball on his side. “He said he'd see me tomorrow though.”
Wesley thought for a moment. “Maybe I can pursued Wilson to stay out of it. Just let Vanessa into the appointment room.”
“It wouldn't make a difference,” Matt sighed. “She's just as bad as him.”
“I don't know what I can do,” Wesley said quietly.
“With any luck he'll beat me to death tomorrow,” Matt said bitterly, turning over onto his other side, so his back was towards Wesley, indicating that this conversation was well and truly over.
“What's going on?” Wesley asked, as he burst into the room, wearing sweat pants and a rumpled T shirt. When he got the call he'd been sleeping in his suite upstairs, and had judged the situation serious enough that he didn't have time to change.
“Nightmare,” Matt's night time watcher, David, replied, “And it's a bad one. He hasn't responded at all.”
Wesley pressed the button on the control panel, and dragged the microphone to his mouth. “Matthew, I need you wake up now.”
Wesley shouted twice more, then Matt seemed to still for a second, than sat bolt upright, screaming.
“Open the door,” Wesley shouted.
“I'm not going in there!” David barked. “Last time he was like this he broke my arm.”
“Just open the god damn door,” Wesley shouted.
The door slid open and Wesley strode into the room, stopping a foot away from Matt. He shouted, “Matthew, you're having a nightmare. You need to wake up now.”
The screaming suddenly stopped, and Matt blinked a few times, his eyes roving sightlessly around the room.
“Are you awake?” Wesley asked, and suddenly Matt was off the bed, dragging himself to the corner of the room like a wounded animal, where he curled up, shaking so hard that it looked like he might fall apart at any second.
Wesley knelt by Matt, making sure that he would be close enough so that matt could feel his familiar presence with whatever senses he had left, but not close enough to touch him.
He stayed there all night.